


Famous Last Words

by coulsons-hawk (allyoop)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Teenagers, Alternative Universe - Young Adults, Crack Treated Seriously, Dance Competitions, First Meetings, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Friendship, Gen, Humor, M/M, Meet-Cute, Strangers to Lovers, Swing Dancing, Unspecified Ages, b-boy, dance battles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-14
Updated: 2015-06-14
Packaged: 2018-04-04 08:11:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4130697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/allyoop/pseuds/coulsons-hawk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Phil wanders off the beaten path in order to find that missing "it" factor from his dancing, he stumbles into a world of b-boy battles, a ring of illegal activities, and a blond man with a small he can't forget.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Famous Last Words

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting in my drafts since early 2013. It's high time for it to see the light :)

“Steve. You’re an honest man. You would tell me the truth, right?”

Steve stopped pacing in front of Phil, hands still flexing with nervous energy. “You all right there, buddy?” He slid on the bench next to Phil, noting how blank his friend was keeping his face.

“How bad was it?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean–”

“How bad did I perform? I need honesty.”

“You weren’t bad at all.”

Phil began to protest. “Steve-“

He put a quieting hand on Phil’s knee. “Seriously, you were good. It’s just that…you’re _too_ good.”

Phil frowned, waiting for an explanation.

Steve took a breath, trying to formulate his thoughts. “It’s like there’s something missing. Your technique is flawless, and that’s not an exaggeration. You could beat international swing champions with that technique. But you’re so tight and rehearsed and _perfect_ ; it’s like you lost the soul of the whole performance. It doesn’t move me when I watch you dance.”

“Are you saying I don’t have a soul? That I’m a robot?”

Steve let out a sigh. “Phil, that’s not what I’m-“

“I know, I know. Sorry.” Phil leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. “I’m getting upset at the wrong person. The problem is me, not you.”

“No, Phil, you’re-“

“We need everyone on stage now.” One of the assistants beckoned them over. “Results are in a minute.”

Steve offered a hand and helped Phil up. “I’m sure you did fine.”

“There’s only one way to find out.”

They walked through the stage door and found their partners backstage already. Sharon finished adjusting her outfit and reached out to Steve.

“I don’t know how you keep getting so rumpled.” She smoothed out his jacket lapels. “Were you pacing again?”

“Of course he was.” Maria slid up, linking arms with Phil. “You could hear him echoing down the hallway.”

“You always were lighter on the dance floor than off.” Sharon laughed. “So how do I look-“

She was interrupted by a swell of music and they heard the audience start to clap. The trophies had just been wheeled out and the emcee cleared his throat. “If we can have all the contestants on stage please?” Sharon gave Phil a thumbs-up before turning and leading Steve on stage. Maria squeezed his arm.

“It was great. We were great.”

Phil half-smiled. “Thank you.” But he was still worried.

They lined up on stage, the other couples filing out around them. It had been a long weekend, with a higher number of entrants than usual. Phil was sure it was the result of the promise of a certain celebrity guest judge. Of course, Tony Stark hadn’t shown up after all, but at least his money had funded their new performance space and dance studio. Phil wasn’t going to complain. Much.

Maria lightly bumped his side, knocking him back into the moment.

“And the overall third place winner, with highest scores in the Jive and West Coast Swing categories, couple number 16, Maria Hill and Phil Coulson!”

He couldn’t move.

Maria tugged at his arm, effectively dragging him up to accept the trophy. He was grateful his years of training meant he still unconsciously plastered a smile on his face, but it hurt. He had fallen so far.

“And the overall second place winner, with highest scores in the Lindy Hop and East Coast Swing categories, couple number 13, Sharon Carter and Steve Rogers!”

Steve almost fell over himself walking to the front of the stage. The surprise and joy was radiating from him like a child, and Sharon had to lead him back to the line and remind him to stay professional. Phil wanted to smile, to share in his friends’ happiness and congratulate them. But instead he replayed his own performance in his head, over and over, zooming in on every mistake and misstep and trying to analyze where he went wrong. Trying to find where he lost the “soul”.

Raucous applause burst out and reminded him where he was. Maria led him offstage and down the hallway to their dressing room. Only the first and second place champions, the ones advancing to nationals, were to be photographed. Phil wanted to sit, and stay sitting, and just let the world continue to move around him. Maria wouldn’t let him.

“We were _great_.”

“Well, obviously we weren’t-“

“We are great -don’t interrupt me again- we are _fantastic._ It’s a fluke. The judges were clearly drinking too much of the Stark brand wine that was provided.” Maria started pacing. “Or… you know what? Those first place winners, those Russians? I don’t trust them. That redhead especially. I saw her in the girls’ bathroom, singing to herself while staring intensely in the mirror. No clue what the song was; it wasn’t English. Who does that? It’s so weird; it’s probably some sort of Russian curse she put on us. We’ll have to do research and enact countermeasures. Avenge ourselves and our lost trophy.”

Phil laughed and Maria grinned. She was clearly trying to cheer him up with wild stories. Phil’s smile disappeared as quickly as it had come.

Maria’s face grew serious. “You okay?”

“No.” He stood up, kicking off his dance shoes and shrugging out of his jacket. He began packing his bag.

“Don’t you want to wait for Sharon and Steve? Do our usual after party?”

He stopped for just a second and then kept packing. “No. Steve is right. I need to find my soul again. I’m not inspired to dance. I don’t feel the urgency and _need_ anymore.”

“You’ve been at it for so long and competitions are exhausting. Take some time. Go on vacation someplace warm and sleep for a week or a month.”

“You sure?”

She shrugged. “If you aren’t here when the next competition rolls around, I’ll find someone else. I’ve been hearing some good things about that new guy, Sitwell. He sounds eager to get on your level. I’m sure I can teach him a few things.”

Phil pulled her into a rare hug. “I’m stubborn, Maria. You know I won’t give up until I find it. And then next year…. Internationals. I know it.”

* * *

It was still mostly light out so Phil decided to walk. He wasn’t nearly as okay as he had been trying to appear. He was full of an energy he didn’t know how to release. It was anger, frustration, sadness, and a hot coil of disappointment in himself. He had let Maria down. They didn’t even place high enough to go to nationals, and they’ve been going for the last 5 years. He didn’t know what to do with these restless feelings. So he let his feet carry him through the city streets, aiming in the general direction of home, but not caring how long it took him to arrive.  
He heard music in the distance. He turned at the corner, heading to the source. It was less out of curiosity and more out of wanting an immediate distraction from his thoughts. As he got closer, he could hear the pounding bass and the sounds of the raucous crowd that was gathered. A fight had broken out.

A dance fight.

Phil elbowed his way in closer, wanting to watch. It was territorial, aggressive and raw. Phil could smell the power in the air. The shorter man was laughing, which did nothing but egg his opponent on. The larger man did a fake fall forward, impossibly freezing at the last minute and then dropping into a series of complicated windmills before launching back up to standing. The blond ran at the wall, bouncing off and flipping over, landing to the rhythm of the music. He dropped to the ground on one hand, gliding sideways, and forced his opponent back. He pushed off the ground and twisted midair, his legs flying out behind him and he caught them with one hand, freezing in a pretzel-like pose. His opponent upped the ante by spinning faster windmills, making the audience dizzy as they watched. He finished with an impossibly long headspin, and the crowd roared. Phil glanced back towards the blond, not able to look away for long, and saw him clapping and enjoying the show as much as the onlookers. The blond look across the onlookers and caught Phil’s eye. He winked.

Ignoring his spinning opponent, the blond ran at the wall and flipped over him, twisting 360 degrees midair and back to standing. He sprung backwards onto his arms, freezing in a half-falling position before rolling to the ground. With only his hands supporting his body, he began rotating his legs around him, hopping on his hands as his legs swung through from the front to the back. Springing back up, he ran at the other man, and suddenly bounced back like he hit a wall. He backflipped, and landed on his back, making the crowd gasp. It was a fake-out: he rolled right back up, laughing, and the other man gave him a high five. The onlookers cheered and shouted out compliments, but the noise was drowned by a sudden klaxon erupting from behind.

Phil could hear the sound of breaking glass and gunshots, but he couldn’t see though the crowd. He was jostled back and forth as the people all ran different ways. He pressed forward, not wanting to get trampled, back towards where the dancers had been. He could just spot the blond hauling the stereo around the corner.

“Hey, stop!” Phil shouted. He felt possessed by some braveness that wasn’t his. The blond turned around, surprised. The laughter was gone from his eyes and he looked scared. When he saw it was Phil who had called, he relaxed a little.

Now that he had his attention, Phil had to say something, _anything_ to keep him there. “What’s your name?”

“Clint. You?”

“Phil.” Why did he just tell a stranger his name? Phil could feel his breathing accelerate. This felt risky.

Clint indicated across the street. “Gotta run. Maybe I’ll see ya around, Phil.” He dashed around the corner, but not before leaving Phil with a toothy grin and another wink.

Phil was pretty sure his fast breaths weren’t from fear. Watching those dancers, that _Clint_ , he had seen something raw and he wanted it. And Phil was a stubborn man. He would find it -and _Clint_ \- again.

* * *

“Dammit Phil!”

He had just walked in the door of his apartment and was smothered by Steve.

Sharon pulled Steve back. “Where have you been? You weren’t answering your phone and you didn’t wait for us and it’s been well over an hour and-“

“I walked home.”

“I know you did. That’s why we were so worried. Haven’t you been watching the news?”

“Not recently, what with all the rehearsals we’ve been having-“

“I need to show you something.”

Sharon pulled out her phone and opened up the news sites. “Look at this; two violent robberies just this week and five in the last ten days. All within the blocks between here and the theatre. I can’t believe you walked, Phil. You scared us all.”

Maria burst in the door. “Doorman a few streets over thinks he saw him, but I lost his trail a couple of blocks from here. Tell me you found – _Phil!”_   She punched his arm hard. “What the hell were you thinking?”

“I’m sorry, I wasn’t.”

“You were gone so long; longer than it should have taken you to walk.”

“Yeah, I got sidetracked by a dance battle. You wouldn’t believe the moves these guys were doing. They’re so strong and there’s this whole factor of surprise that’s really-” Sharon looked stricken. “What’s going on?”

“What happened after the battle?”

“What do you mean? It got interrupted by something happening at a store across the street, but I couldn’t really see-“

“Cops think all these robberies are the same people. There’s always a convenient distraction right across the street when they happen.”

“What type of distraction?” Phil already knew the answer.

“It’s usually a b-boy battle. Did you see anything? Do you remember any faces?”

Did he remember those blue eyes and that laughing grin and the way he winked? And the mussed up blond hair and those impossible strong arms and the way those lips formed _See ya around, Phil_?

“No, I don’t remember anything. There were too many people and too much confusion.”

“That’s fine, we’re just glad you’re back with us.”

“When I told you it would be no big deal to find another dance partner, I didn’t mean you should get _killed_ before I replace you.”

He smiled at Maria. “I think I found it though. This thing I’ve been missing.”

“Already?”

“Well, I found a trail. I just have to track it.”

“Do you want help?” Steve looked so earnest. But Phil thought of that bright grin and the sound of sirens in the background.

“No. I think I should do this on my own.”

Maria looked hesitant. She’s known him so long, Phil was sure she could tell that he wasn’t saying the whole truth. He tried to placate her. “I promise I won’t be caught up in some robbery ring. Its just dance; how dangerous can it be?”

 

It wasn’t the idea of dancing that had Phil’s skin buzzing and heart beat drumming at super speed. He imagined that blond dancing with him, the feel of his arms around him, his hips beneath his hands… If there was danger in Phil’s self-appointed mission, he was pretty sure it came in a pretty package.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments & kudos are appreciated as always <3 <3 <3 
> 
> (also not gonna lie, the return of So You Think You Can Dance reminded me that I have never posted this OOPS)


End file.
